Anywhere
by birdie7272
Summary: Dear my love, haven't you wanted to be with me?/ And dear my love, haven't you longed to be free?/ I can't keep pretending that I don't even know you./ And at sweet night, you are my own./ Take my hand.../ Destiel AU. Teen.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Inspired by the Evanescence song _Anywhere_. It was originally much more depressing but then this AU monster came out of it. Well, I say monster but it's much shorter than potentially possible. So please play the song at some point (if you feel so inclined) and enjoy (if you feel so inclined).

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><p>No one knew the true name of the man who ruled over the kingdom. All they heard were the tales of tyranny, repression, and cruelty. Unfortunately, these tales held much truth. With a power none could compete with, the King ruled over all, unsuppressed and unopposed.<p>

His people learned to live in the oppressive kingdom, going through their daily schedules and only asking for help when it was truly needed while knowing they would likely be ignored, save the scarce miracle. They even tried to appease him with gifts they could not afford for themselves in the hope that he would give them something in return, other than the cold shoulder. It often did not work as the King hid away behind his gates, locking himself high in his castle, refusing to bother with the lower class.

Not many were able to see past these large golden gates, towering high on the hill. Those that did were either guards, the Royal family -some intermixing-, or idiotic trespassers who were as good as dead.

Dean did not know about this when he entered the inner parts of the kingdom, thinking the stories he heard on the outskirts nothing more than rumors. After all, how could a ruler just ignore his people like that?

Dean was forced to the castle to look for work so he could send some money home to his brother and his uncle. His plan was to walk straight into the palace and demand a place in the royal court as blacksmith or welder. He had many talents when it came to fixing things and knew he could be of use. Even with those many talents, it had been impossible for him to find a job thus far. Once people caught sight of his mark he was turned down, no matter how skilled he showed them he was.

The marks were a curse to many, birthmarks determining how they were to be treated for the rest of their lives. There were many types of people in the world and it was just his luck that he was born to be one of the least desired, even below the unmarked humans. There were the high and mighty Royals, born with faded white lines crossing from the top of their shoulders down to the bottom of their spine. There were the Firebreathers, with thick red lines fading down the back of their neck. The Fangers, with either black, red or a combo of both twisting lines connecting at the forehead and wrapping around the front and back of arms. The Weres, with thick black lines fading from their eyes down the sides of their neck. The Psychs, with harsh green lines slashing over their eyes and chest. The Fairies, with bundles of neon colors twirling around their arms, hands, and legs. And a bunch of others including Humans who were clean from any marks at birth.

Usually, the lower the class, the darker the lines and only the Royals were born with the bright, white marks.

It all went back to the earliest of times when the marks were first appearing and personality traits seemed to follow the patterns. Those with lighter marks were suggested to have the brighter and better characteristics, touched by angels they said. Those with darker were the opposite. Darker marks meant those people had been touched by a dark spirit, a demon, and therefore would be dark themselves.

Of course, the system is not concrete. Many Royals are dicks and Fangers can be the nicest of people. Even with progressive thinking, many still linger on the old stereotypes.

That was why people flinched at Dean's all-telling thick black lines crossing and swirling in a circular form on his chest. It was the mark of the lowest class: Takers.

Many Takers had died out, as they were usually killed for being the lowest of the low with the worst reputation following them. When the marks first started appearing Takers were born with a solid black circle covering their chest but, due to the need to survive, they evolved. They were now born with dark, thick lines twisting over each other instead, as if the few glimpses of skin were some attempt made by evolution to give the Takers hope that they could be saved, that they didn't deserve to die. Dean wasn't quite sure if that was true. His gut told him otherwise. He usually had a few dark thoughts floating around that could only be described as Taker.

His little brother though, was a different story. After Dean's parents' death, he was left to provide him with the life he deserved to live. Their uncle was not going to do it on his own and though the family next door was very understanding and helpful, Dean hated to leave them with nothing. Honestly, it was better for them when he was gone. He was always causing trouble and Sammy, the little brother, was usually following him into it. Without him there and only his cash coming in, the kid had a real chance. He was smart. He could get a job anywhere he wanted to and his scar was practically non-existent compared to Dean's. It was part of the benefit of being born from a Taker and a Fairy. They were mixed. Sammy just got the better parts of that combination.

So even though Dean's scar caused him to be turned down job after job, he wasn't about to take no as an answer anymore. The outer villages rejected him so he was going to the head honcho. What a big mistake that turned out to be...

He did not know the royal castle was off limits. Alright, he figured it out when the gates were shut but it was mid-day. There was not a feast or a festival so there was no reason for them to be shut. Maybe it was just in his nature, needing to break the rules, but when he saw a locked door he just had to break it down. He figured they would not notice if he picked a lock and snuck in a side door. The job was what he was after but would anyone really notice a jewel or two missing in the meantime? Oh, he was wrong.

The guards grabbed him quick and did not listen to his totally reasonable reason for breaking in to see the King. Instead, they told him he would get his wish to work in the royal court but he would never be able to leave. Oh, and he would not be paid either.

He had become nothing short of a prisoner in that one night. They had him do work, whatever they felt like making him do, whether it was cook or clean or actual metalwork. On the days he refused, he was thrown into a prison cell and left without food or water. After a while he decided it would be better to be outside and think of a way to get past the walls rather than be cooped up where he could do nothing more than stare at stone.

That was over five years ago, back when he was only 17.

Five years.

The days started to blend in together. Escape was pointless. Believe it, he tired.

He came close once. He was with another captured prisoner, Garth. They had been planning for a while and all Garth had to do was meet him by the gate. He already had the door open and he was ready to go but, of course, Garth had to go and get caught.

While Dean had been waiting for him he was made and, after silently whispering his apology to the air, he ran for it. He did not get very far past the inner walls before they dragged him straight back in. They kept a closer eye on him after that. He was not allowed near the other prisoners and was always locked into his own lonely cell when he was not under close watch of one of the Royals. No one told Dean what happened to Garth but he was pretty sure it did not end well. He never saw the guy again.

It got pretty lonely, he wouldn't deny that. He missed his family and his friends, most of all his little brother. It had been so long -at least to him it felt very long. Sammy had been so small and he must have grown in that time. He had to wonder what he looked like and if they were all getting on without his money to support them.

The only people he came into contact with now were Royals. They were _all_ dicks. He never saw the King but the family was bad enough on its own. How many kids did a guy need? There were so many of them taking up such a small space. There was no way they were all princes and princesses. No woman could put out that many children and keep on living. Especially not with the death rate he knew from back home. He figured it was a large family with third cousins and half sisters and once removed members living in there as well. He never felt the need to ask.

He worked directly under Prince Michael -who was a total douche. He had Dean do every little thing his heart desired and more, including humiliating him in front of all the people –prisoners and Royals- just for his own amusement. That included hard labor and physical and emotional torment. Usually, because it was Michael's favorite, he was stuck in the stocks and pelted with rotten tomatoes and other smelly fruits that clung to his skin for days.

It did not help that Dean had a mouth on him too. He could never keep himself from speaking out, giving just one more sarcastic comment, one last word, and he did not really want to stop. It also did not help that he was a Taker. Not only did the Royals think they were better but so did the prisoners he was kept from. They even appreciated that the Royals forcibly separated him from their little prisoner group.

As if he wanted to be friends with them.

Prison was no good for him. He lashed out in every possible way. Once he did manage to swing a punch and land himself in the cells for a week with the added bonus of visits from Alastair. Really, Zachariah had been asking for it –quite literally in fact- and Dean just could not resist a Royal saying _'Go on, hit me'_. He just had to try.

That was not an enjoyable week. It was all pitch black and pain.

How original of a King to have a torture chamber in the dungeon. Run by a pure Taker no less.

It was pretty unusual for a pure Taker to openly roam around and to have one working for the palace was interesting to find out. It reminded him the reasons why his kind had a reputation. Alastair was one sick son of a bitch.

Every time a Royal got sick of him after that, they sent him to Alastair to pick up more scars. That was when he decided he was no longer going to give them the satisfaction.

A vow of silence seemed like a very archaic thing to do. It also seemed somewhat pitiful, or at least it did before he had been captured. Really, somebody thought it was a good idea to show defiance by not doing a thing? But after all his other options were exhausted, he had much time to think to himself and realize how powerful it could truly be. With this vow Dean could take control of what little life he had and make a point that not even the Royals could ignore.

No one owned him.

Maybe this was not the traditional, noble reason but it worked for his purpose. It was not like he had anyone to talk to anyway.

In his cell, almost two years into his imprisonment, he took up the sharpest rock on the ground and marked himself in the holiest of places. He created the symbol of silence by deeply cutting through his mark so it would create a scar and stay with him forever, just like his Taker symbol.

No one scarred a mark.

It was seen as a great offense to do so to others and an extreme measure for one to take on themselves. It meant the purpose was beyond the person's very being, forever imprinted on their soul, and immortal in their promise. There were exceptions based in ancient traditions such as marriages or vows such as this but it was rarely seen in the modern era as it's popularity had decreased greatly. Dean didn't have the luxury of modern options from behind locked gates.

The vow to stay silent until he was free was not so easy. Once the Royals realized what he did, they made it their job to get him to break his sacred promise. They almost had him a few times and Alastair sure as hell came close –getting him to scream. But he never spoke. Not to anyone.

Not even when he started to visit.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been an accident.

The boy tripped down the corridor and wandered around the small hall in confusion until his eyes found Dean curled up in the corner of his dark cell. The stranger was shocked into stillness as he tried to make out the shadowy figure. This boy looked to be about Dean's age, probably a few years younger. He didn't appear to be another prisoner -his clothes, a plain white shirt draped over dark brown trousers, were too clean. Much too clean. He looked out of place against the dingy backdrop, his short black hair the only part of him that appeared to out of place as it loosely spiked around his head. Castiel, he said his name was in an awkward and formal greeting with a deep voice that echoed through the small space.

"Will you not tell me what your name is?"

Dean slowly picked up his head and looked over at him blankly without bothering to try to mime his way through that one.

"Okay." The boy noisily cleared his throat before pressing on with his one-sided conversation. "Well, I'm sorry to bother you. I seem to be a bit lost. I'm not really supposed to be here. See, I'm not supposed to leave the inner palace."

Dean knew of the inner palace and he was not allowed to go in there. Only a few got to see behind shut doors and those were the special few. To the rest, it was closed off with great big locks guarded by scary looking statues. Not that it would deter Dean, he wasn't scared of some gargoyle, but he had no reason to dive deeper into hell.

The tense mutterings of his visitor continued as Dean made no move to respond, or any move at all -a statue in his own way. "I meant to meet my brother Gabriel but I think he gave me bad directions. We usually meet much closer to the gate."

Prince Gabriel was part of the Royal family and a dick all the same but he wasn't as bad as some of the others. He was more the prankster and loved to use Dean as a test subject. His idea to try and get Dean to break his vow was to throw ice down his pants at every opportunity, usually when he was busy lifting things and didn't have a free hand to bat the chunks away. Every time he did it he would add on, _'If you want me to stop just say so!'_

Dick.

Dean gave Gabriel's brother another irritated look before turning his gaze back down to the floor and settling back into his usual spot where he could vacantly stare the hours away. How long could this guy talk to himself for? Being the sibling to a Royal meant he was one as well so probably forever. They never shut up.

"What is the best way to leave this place?"

Dean scrunched his eyes together and started chuckling at the ground below. Alright, either this was the stupidest, most naïve Royal ever or this was just some trick Michael sent his way to bother him. Dean had been around a while and this guy was unrecognizable. If he was an inner palace member, not meant to mingle with the common folk, why else would he be sneaking to the deepest depths of the dungeon to pay him a visit?

"Oh." The Royal seemed to realize his mistake, finally taking in the iron bars keeping them separated and stating his finds outright, "You're locked up. Why are you locked up?"

Dean's face continued to contort in disbelief as he shook his head. This was definitely one of Michael's games.

"You don't have to tell me." Dean didn't bother to spare him much of a second glance but could make out the other boy shuffling in his spot, his fists tightening and loosening at his side. "I was just curious. No one really tells me anything."

He could feel the Royal continue to look and eventually gave up ignoring him and met his eyes with a defiant glare to find...not really hatred like he was used to. There was no threatening scowl or bang of the fists as he learned to expect from his silence. It was more along the lines of that curiosity the Royal had just referred to.

The boy's head was tilted to the side and his brows were scrunched together as his eyes tried to penetrate the dark and make out the mute figure. After a certain point it no longer felt like an average curiosity. He wouldn't _stop_ staring. In a former life Dean would have said something suggestive like _'they've got cuffs in the back'_ or _'there's a lot you can do through the bars'_ but he didn't have that luxury. He just stared back with a challenging glare and waited for the other to cave.

Eventually the staring contest stopped when a tiny bird landed in his cell window with a squawk and distracted the Royal. Dean let his eyes drop and without the connection to hold them, the Royal left Dean to his chamber, apparently finding his way out of the labyrinth of cells on his own because he was back the next night.

"Hello Dean." The Royal greeted him in the same place outside his cell and Dean definitely jumped at his name. Not only had he not heard the guy sneak up on him but no one had called him by his true name in at least a year. He was just known as mutt or boy or squirrel -squirrel being a name made up by one of the other prisoners for a reason he still did not understand.

The Royal took no notice of his shock and went on speaking in a calm, confident tone. "I asked Gabriel about you. He told me who you were. He also told me you took a vow of silence. So you don't have to talk…because you won't. I just wanted to see if you were hungry."

Dean's eyes squinted. This was a trick and he knew it. Food? There was no way. Yet, the guy was reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small apple. A really shiny, dark red apple that had Dean's mouth watering.

The food they gave him was worthy of dog chow –appropriate with his nickname. Seeing something like that was making him flash back to old memories of his mother baking apple pies with sugar and cinnamon, the scent filling the house and calling him in from outside. He would kill for a slice of that pie.

The Royal slid his hand through the bars and held the apple in his flat palm as if he were about to feed a horse and wanted to prevent his fingers from being chomped off. Dean stared from the corner, unmoving. It wasn't like it would be poisoned. This was not _Snow White_ and Dean was no princess. If they wanted to kill him they could have done that years ago. Even though that was true, he didn't want this Royal to get any ideas.

He got up and slowly stalked to him, staring him down and refusing to break the hold with the Royal's monstrously blue eyes in every step he took. He had not seen them from the corner but in the light of a small torch burning many feet away they glowed a shining sapphire. Those bright eyes made him look quite innocent as he refused to drop his gaze. Dean had to give the boy credit, most could not look him straight in the eyes for long. What they saw was too dark for them. Even then, he could feel his mark tingle as his mind drifted to dark, dominating, Taker thoughts but he would not look away.

When there was no room left between them Dean paused and continued to stare the younger boy down, giving him another chance. The Royal still did nothing but stare back, his hand only shaking the slightest bit as he held it up. With no warning, Dean suddenly snatched a hand down and wrapped it tight around his wrist and with a strong tug pulled him straight up to the cage with a bang.

Dean smirked to himself as the Royal tried to control his breathing, the fear in his eyes obvious in the close proximity, only the inch of bar between them. Dean pointedly grabbed the apple from his palm and leaned in close, taking a loud chomp of the fruit in front of the Royal's face, spraying the juices on his skin and in his eyes. Dean gave him a playful wink before releasing his grip and pushing him away. The Royal took a step back and started to rub the ache in his wrist and on his head where he bumped into the metal bars but did not say a thing.

Dean didn't really think it would earn him a visit to Alistair. This kid seemed too nervy to do anything like that.

Nothing else happened that night except for Dean eating and enjoying every last bit of that apple, only leaving the stem to be chucked out the window. He didn't think that interaction between them would keep the boy away and he was right.

For some reason the Royal took an interest in him and almost every night he came to visit. He came in the dead of night to talk -and talk and talk and talk- and do a lot of staring. At first, Dean tried to scare him away with threatening looks or by throwing loose stones at him but nothing would not stop that boy from coming.

Eventually Dean accepted it. After hearing the final click of the lock on his door he would sink against the bars and watch the hall, listening for the Royal's footsteps so he could scurry to the other side and take his place in his corner. The Royal would sit on the opposite wall in the hall and always beckon Dean to come closer. Dean would always ignore his calls and stay in his place as he listened, keeping his head down and his ears open. The Royal seemed to settle slowly into his victory, becoming more and more comfortable around him as Dean in turn did the same.

This Royal wasn't like the other Royals, not really. He was a dick to a certain extent, pretentious and pious, but it was not his fault. It was a family trait. Plus, from what he told Dean, he was not exposed to much of the real world -only a window- because his father -the King- had condemned him to stay within the inner palace walls. His days consisted of watching out that window, reading books and other stories he would recant, or spending limited time with Gabriel or his cousin Belthazar. All of his Royal family had been explained to Dean at one point or another and it seemed those were the only two that he spent time with.

On the nights the Royal did not show up to visit, Dean's mind would wonder. At first it was in relief but that was soon followed by worry and then boredom. He had come to tolerate and even enjoy the company, even if it was from a Royal. Besides, what did he have to look forward to in life? Every day was monotonous –work, solitude, torment- and this, listening and mentally teasing, was the only thing that brought him some sense of entertainment.

After weeks of visits, Dean had evolved to active listening and responding -usually sarcastically. His communication had definitely increased from glaring since the Royal first started to bug him and he gestured his way through many conversations. At first he was not sure what changed his mind but then he realized, as he watched the Royal come and go, what he saw in this boy. He was lonely. Though they came from separate worlds they had that in common.

He was just as lonely as Dean.

Dean wondered why a Royal would feel the same as one of its prisoners and why he was locked up in the inner palace, the same as Dean was locked into his cell, but he did not ask. Not out loud at least.

"Here." The Royal pulled a piece of parchment and graphite from his pocket and gently placed it on the ground of the cell as he backed up to his usual spot on the opposite wall. "I was hoping you know how to write?" Dean nodded as he eyed the paper on the ground. "Can you tell me your name?"

Dean took a moment before unraveling form his corner and gliding over to the door before sinking back down, picking up the writing material and using his leg to scribble.

_You already know it. Idiot. _

The Royal chuckled at the note in his hand and Dean reckoned he would need to step up his insults. It had been so long since he had a way to communicate them other than through evil-eyes and rude hand gestures.

"I know but I want you to tell me yourself. I only know your first name. I know you are not a Royal so you must have a second."

Dean sighed but grabbed the parchment back and wrote it out, _Winchester._

"Hello," The boy nodded his head in the formal greeting. "Dean Winchester."

_Cas _–Dean did not bother with formalities.

"My name is Castiel."

_I know. Mouthful _

"But you never say it out loud. How can it be a mouthful?"

_For my brain_

"Okay." The Royal tilted his head in his usual expression of confusion and it made Dean chuckle. "What's funny?"

_Your face._

"My face is funny to you?"

Dean nodded.

"Are you always this pleasant in your mind?"

Dean shrugged with a smirk that made the Royal chuckle again. It was an enjoyable sound, one not heard much in the prison walls.

"Where are you from?"

_Far away_

"Can you tell me?"

Dean shook his head.

"Why not?"

_Royal. _

"Oh." The boy's face sunk and Dean had to tap him to get him to read his question.

_Why?_

"Why what?"

_Do you want to know?_

"Because I am curious about you. Should I not ask?"

_You- _He drew a line up to where he wrote _Royal_ and tapped the page so he would understand.

"Why should that matter?"

_I'm a prisoner _–Dean let the boy read that sentence before reaching over the paper and furiously tapping the word Royal again. He seriously wondered how thick this guy was sometimes.

"Why did Father lock you up?" Dean shrugged and shook his head with a frown. "You don't know?" Dean shook his head again. "That doesn't make sense. How can you not know?"

_Looking for work. Caught breaking into palace. _

"Did you take anything?" He shook his head. "How long have you been here?"

_2_

"Two months?"

_Years_

"Years?! How long is your sentence?"

_Don't know_

"How can you not know? Did they not tell you?" Dean shook his head. "But that doesn't- that makes no sense. They would not condemn you without a fair trial." Dean raised his brow and laughed spitefully as the Royal continued to shake his head. "No. I refuse to believe this. Father would not do that."

Dean shook his head again and scribbled out something quick, his repressed anger making his writing sloppier than normal, scrawling over the page. _You're locked up by him but you can't believe it?_

"That's different. I know the reason for my penalization." Dean raised his brow for the explanation but now the Royal was the one shaking his head. "You shouldn't be here." The prisoner shrugged and watched in shock as the Royal stomped away without so much as a good-bye.

The next night he came back, just like normal. Only this time he wasn't cautious or curious or talkative. He was just plain mad. It looked odd for him to act in such a way when he was usually so calm. Dean was now the one watching intently with wide eyes as the Royal paced with clenched fists. Dean waited for him to talk and when he would not, he tried to catch his attention with a wave of the hand. The Royal just shrugged him off and continued to pace until he was satisfied.

"I spoke to my cousin. He told me of who you are. He overheard you speaking to the other servants a long time ago. I know about your family. I know you didn't –you do not deserve this. All because of the mark you were born with." Dean rose to his feet and watched in awe as the Royal only seemed to get more furious, a thrill sent through him at seeing this new side. The anger made him seem bigger and older than Dean knew him to be and he was much more undignified than his lifestyle commended. Dean knew he had backbone because of his interest and interactions with a Taker but this was something else. All over a life that was not his. "He always does this. All his people are equal, so he says. But the Takers never are! We- I knew he was bad but to rip a young boy from his life, never to see his family again. Your sentence is for life. I was not aware. I cannot- I just don't believe- how can-"

Dean cut him off by reaching through the bars, grabbing his arm, and yanking him to a stop. The Royal snapped his attention to the prisoner, breathing hard, his body still tense, their eyes stuck in another unnerving staring contest filled with the anxiety pulsing through the air. The Royal was first to break it, returning to his natural state in one long exhale as he glanced at the ground and started to look shameful for his outburst.

"I'm sorry."

Dean patted his arm try and tell him it was okay before releasing him completely and slinking it back between the bars. He was surprised at how much he wanted the Royal to calm after the momentary thrill was over and that it brought a twinge of guilt at seeing him so worked up. It did not make sense, there was no reason for Dean to care –but the Royal had no reason to care about him either.

"I suppose I let myself get too involved. It frustrates me because I can empathize."

Dean held up a finger and pointed to the ground miming for him to stay before crawling to the back of his cell and picking out the parchment and graphite he used the night before from under his 'blanket' –if it could even be called that.

_What does empathyze _

_empythize _

_impa _

_No big words. _

The boy cracked a smile as he read the note but it did not reach his eyes. "I understand you because I too must deal with being judged by my mark. Not to your extent of course."

Dean scowled at him and scrawled his words down fast, using the wall to help him write. _You're a Royal. How?_

"We can't choose the mark we were born with. Even as a Royal I am no different."

_Hate your superiority? _

"No that's not- I can't. I'm sorry. I have to go."

The Royal hurried away and left Dean very confused with the lack of explanation. Why would a Royal hate his mark? Many things did not make sense with that one.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **I'm going to continue/finish this dribble but I am totally going to write in this verse again and make the marks magic. I thought about it before I started posting but it didn't work for this story but … I like magic. So when I get to it, next story will be magic. (After/during my mutant!teen!destiel fic….yeah that's a plug). For now, you are stuck with these non-magic two…

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><p>Dean was left the following night to scribble on his parchment alone. The Royal didn't show. The same happened the night after that and after that and after a few weeks, Dean thought he offended the guy or something. To his utter shock, he realized he actually felt bad about it.<p>

The loneliness started to settle back in accompanying his solitude and with the boredom came more doodling. After a while, he had drawn over any evidence that the Royal visited in the first place –his sketches crossing over and covering the words from their conversations in a blanket of harsh, jittery lines. He wasn't an artist or anything. Actually, he didn't care much about drawing at all but it was something to do until he ran out of room. Which he did. Then he was back to counting the stars through the bars in his tiny window or counting the stones in the ceiling. The totals changed every night.

Every day passed just as it had the day before. He was put to work -like always- doing chores for Michael, staying quiet and keeping his head down.

The change from the Royal's visit was barely noticeable, except for the fact that he now found himself distracted whenever passing the multiple intimidating locks linking together in an impenetrable barrier on the outside of the inner palace doors and couldn't help but wonder. He knew the Royal was sheltered behind there. It was where he was trapped and it was the place from where he snuck out.

Dean wondered how he did it -if there was a back door or maybe a second story window leading to a ledge. In his mind were plans of escape but if the Royal only escaped to his cell…it didn't give him much hope.

Every glimpse of the interlocking metalwork helped him settle into the acceptance that he would never see the Royal again.

While he could not see the Royal, it felt like the Royal could see him. The boy always had a stare about him and Dean could always feel it in the close space of the cells, as if he were looking past him, instead of head on. Past his barriers and into his soul. It was a creepy thought but not nearly as eerie when he started to feel that stare while walking around the center court.

At first he thought he was imagining it, letting his mind wander to thoughts he did not need or care to have. Then one day he unintentionally lifted his head from the ground and looked directly into the high window of the far eastern corner tower and saw him.

The Royal was hiding there with his face peeking out from behind a silky blue curtain, the shade matching the glow of his eyes. As soon as their gazes met, the fabric slammed down to cover the glass and the Royal did not peek out again. Dean thought it was strange and wondered if he imagined it due to a sudden attack of heat stroke or something but the Royal was a strange one.

Whenever he had a chance after that, he would look up again and more than once he caught the fabric swaying, confirming his suspicions. On one occasion, because he had been trying, he caught the Royal's eyes and stunned him into one of their naturally occurring staring contests. Dean broke it by blowing him a kiss and throwing him a wink but that only stalled him for a moment before the curtain closed again.

Then something really strange happened.

Michael came to him and told him he was to be relocated, in a way. "You're not going anywhere so we might as well use you. More cooks are needed in the inner kitchens. You will be directly responsible for serving the Royal family."

Dean wanted to say -_as opposed to?- _but instead got that across with one brow raising above the other.

"In other words, you will no longer be just mine. You belong to every member of the family and you will do as they say." After the speech Michael had about responsibility and consequences for his actions revolving around less leniency in the inner palace, Dean was led to his new station.

The kitchens were awesome. He could sneak bites of food whenever he wanted and no one would say anything because they were all too scared of him. The only one that did not shy away every time he picked up a knife was Charlie.

Charlie was, admittedly, his favorite. She was a tiny redheaded with a Fairy mark made of blues, reds, and pinks, and had an upbeat attitude that would not quit despite her chains. She babbled on for at least two hours before realizing Dean was not responding and when he showed her his mark and the symbol carved into it she just shrugged and nodded her head and went on talking. It was how they were from then on. Eventually they would have entire conversations using only their eyes, making fun of the royal family or arguing about food from across the room.

Dean actually felt pretty okay for a bit there. He accepted the Royal had left him, not returning to his cell since leaving, and Dean was not able to check the tower because he could not leave his post in the kitchens, but it was okay. With Charlie there, he felt like he had a friend again.

The first time he saw the Royal again was at the family dinner. Almost every day they had a royal dinner for the entire royal family, except for the King who never showed –Dean wondered if they guy was even real sometimes. It was just the sons and daughters, cousins and other relatives, sitting around giant tables waiting to be served.

Dean hadn't left the kitchen to help serve until a few weeks into his transfer. They said he could now be trusted because he hadn't messed anything up, yet. They luckily had not noticed the few missing apples. Apparently, he had acquired a taste for them and craved them whenever he caught sight of one just resting there. They never missed them.

There was always a great chatter among the family and it was easy to get lost in it all. He was standing next to Charlie with plates in his hand as they looked out at the mass of Royals. The amount of arrogance came off in waves as they viewed them all, sitting up straight with knives and forks clattering, crystal glasses full of wine rising to their lips. Dean shook his head thinking just one of those glasses could feed Sammy for a year.

They did their duty and silently placed the food down in front of the obnoxious group so they could dine, not noticing the little bites Dean had stolen here and there. Everything was moving at a blur but Dean did not miss the only royal family member sitting quietly, solitarily at the end of his table -timid, alone, and ignored.

Dean found him easily, as if drawn to him in the crowd, and the Royal looked up almost instantly, his eyes growing big when he recognized his face and realized who he was. Dean smiled tightly as he would with any royalty and brought him his food just as he would anyone else. The Royal said nothing and he did nothing back.

This was their new dynamic, avoiding eyes and pretending not to know one another. Every dinner was like that until Charlie just had to go and say something, "Why are you so interested in Castiel?"

Dean looked at her in shock at the sudden comment, stopping his chopping of carrots and checking over his shoulder for listeners. He didn't know she knew who he was. And was he really so obvious for glancing his way? He only did it once or twice. Maybe three times. Alright maybe more, but the guy was easy to spot when he sat all by himself. It wasn't his fault he stuck out like a sore thumb.

"I only ask because you get giant doll's eyes whenever you look at him. How do you even know him?"

Dean shrugged and made a noncommittal move, not really sure how to explain that.

"Oh you are pointless. I'm getting you something to write on." She left and brought him back some parchment where he was forced through puppy eyes to write out the explanation. She gasped when he finished, the noise calling one of the guards and they both quickly pretended to be busy cooking but she continued to whisper to him despite the danger. "He sneaks out of the tower? That's crazy. The guy is like Rapunzel. He's really nice though. I spilled something on him once, no punches or anything. _He_ even apologized. Does he still visit?" Dean shook his head and wrote out the rest of what happened, feeling a bit better for sharing –though he would never admit it. "You should make him. Here." She started scribbling on the parchment, ripped off a piece, and handed the written message to him. "Give him that and stop gaping. Michael will have your head otherwise."

_Need more parchment. Stop by cell tonight. _

Dean gave her the –_how the hell am I supposed to do that?- _look and she just shrugged, rolled her eyes, and started chopping. Given that she could talk nonstop for hours, she was really good and giving him the silent treatment when she wanted. He taught her well.

At the next dinner, he held his breath and slipped the note onto the Royal's plate. Why he was even doing it he did not know. It was not like the guy wanted to talk to him or anything. He had Charlie now. He did not need him.

Yet, he was still curious. He still did not know enough about him; why he was locked up, why he was so angry, what he did to offend him, or why he hated him.

The Royal looked at the parchment and tucked it into his hand without saying or doing anything so Dean did not really know what to expect. Nonetheless, that night the Royal came with a clean folded piece of parchment tucked in his pocket and his curious eyes glancing around the dark corners of the cell.

"You wanted this?" Dean nodded and held out his hand as the Royal passed it through, taking his usual spot on the floor opposite him. "How are you?"

Dean shrugged.

"I see you now work in the kitchens. That's good. It must be better than working for Michael."

_Do you care?_

"I do."

Dean looked up skeptically.

"I am sorry for not visiting. My brother and Balthazar…They warned me to stay away from you."

Dean shook his head and flipped the page in his hand. He had heard this excuse before, memories of parents pulling their children away from him just because of his mark crossing through his mind. He scribbled on the page and slipped it over to him,_ Because I'm a Taker._

"No."

Dean waited for him to continue and even made a gesture for him to go on but the Royal's eyes were focused on the ground. Dean sighed, tore off a small bit of paper and wrote his question, throwing it between the iron bars and hitting him in the face.

_Why?_

The Royal smiled openly after flinching as the paper hit his eye. He picked up the small piece and crumpled it in his hands nervously, choosing his words carefully. "You deserve an explanation. I know. But it is difficult."

Dean waited for the boy to look up again and gestured for him to go on. Again.

He was truly curious over what he was hiding and wanted to know how the Royal could hate him and still return. Why had his relatives warned him not to? If it was not because he was a Taker, there had to be another reason. What had he done? …Not that he cared. Too much.

The Royal sighed, stared at the ground, and calmly explained, "I'm not allowed to leave my tower. When I was younger I believed it was because my father wanted to protect me. I now know he is ashamed. My family has shunned me, as was his wish. Only Gabriel and Balthazar speak with me and I must sneak out in order to do so. I've long accepted there is nothing I can do. There is no place I can go. All for something out of my control."

After a pause where the boy's fists curled in tense, anxious motions, Dean slid a bit closer and leaned against the bars, clicking his hand against the metal to return the boy's focus. He snapped his eyes up from the ground and looked directly at Dean, staring in the way that made Dean feel more exposed than ever, as if those glowing blues illuminated the darkest parts of his very soul.

They Royal continued in a broken speech without noticing Dean's sudden discomfort, "Knowing you're stuck here all because of a foolish…I know your pain and I want to help you but I cannot. Visiting you just made me realize how powerless I am. When I look on you and see how little you think of yourself all because of your mark…I can't help but feel angry. They noticed. Gabriel and Balthazar both noticed. If someone else found out…If they found out I was not the obedient son they assume me to be, sneaking away at night, they would piece it together. They would find out about you. It would only result in your punishment along with my own. I couldn't risk you…I can do nothing and nothing will change. I thought it best I leave you be. I didn't think you'd want me to return. Not if you knew everything. Not if you knew why."

When he did not continue, Dean let him have a moment and thought on what he said, smiling just the slightest bit when he realized the Royal had not left him because of hatred. In fact, it seemed like he was suggesting the opposite. Dean could not be sure though. He needed more information.

The boy seemed lost in his own thoughts, not aware that Dean started to scribble on his page. Dean pushed the paper over slowly, waiting for the Royal to notice instead of throwing it at him.

It took time but he did eventually see the question and spun it towards him reading, _Why are you locked up Rapunzel?_

His expression turned to a familiar curiousness, one that made Dean smile. "I do not know who that is."

All his reading and he didn't know- ugh. Dean shook his head and pointed to the question again.

"I'm not allowed to show people. They would not understand."

Dean's curiosity peaked as he watched the boy struggle in front of him. He almost wished he would burst out in anger again, just to release some of the tension clouding around him. Another part of him wanted to reach through those bars and stop him from clenching his fists, to relax him and calm him back down -to tell him it couldn't be that bad. He had to shake off the sudden attack of touchy feelings by taking back the page and writing down a plea.

_Show me. _

The boy caught the seriousness in Dean's expression after reading the request and he spent more time looking into him, studying his intentions. It seemed he found what he sought because he slowly stood and nodded as he said, "I suppose you of all people would understand. But you cannot tell anyone."

Dean just held up the parchment and shook it and his head at the stupidity of his statement.

"You know what I mean. Just hang on."

Dean watched with eyebrows furrowed as the Royal slowly tucked a hand under his shirt and pushed it off his body. His eyes popped at the deliberate reveal of torso but they really bugged out when the Royal turned around and his mark came into view.

It crossed up his shoulders and down the length of his back in overlapping lines, the mark of a Royal. Only, it was not the pure white expected from someone such as him. Every line was created in a harsh, dark black. It was the exact same shade as the mark on Dean's chest.

The mark of a Royal.

The color of a Taker.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean's jaw dropped as he continued to stare at the mismatched mark and allowed everything to click into place.

The Royal spoke, refusing to turn from the wall as he crumpled the shirt in his hands into a ball, "I'm not like the others. I was born this way. Father doesn't want anyone to know. I'm a freak of nature. I'm not a true Royal."

Dean patiently waited minutes for the Royal…actually, he waited for Cas to turn and face him. Slowly he started to circle, toeing his way around with his eyes locked on the ground. It was clear he was waiting for something bad to happen. Dean could practically see the walls being built in front of him in preparation.

Dean stood suddenly, shoving the paper in his pants, and without warning curled his hands around his own shirt and chucked it from his body, presenting the scarred, defaced mark he wore on his chest. It was the first time he let the other boy look at it completely, more than just a glimpse. Actually, it was the first time he let anyone voluntarily look at it for more than a mere moment.

Cas' eyes popped when he discovered Dean exposed, the swirling black and scarred lines harshly mixing together on display. He squinted past the dark and tried to trail their pattern but he could not tell where one line ended and another began. On instinct, and with a curiosity that could never be contained, he moved forward, dropped the ball of shirt, and lifted his hands to the iron bars, letting one slip through and reach into the cell.

Dean let him reach forward. He was not really sure why. With most he would break their hand back and stomp their wrist on the ground for coming too close but somehow he felt it was okay. It was just Cas. Cas was different.

Soft fingers traced near the outline of his mark and his body shuttered.

Never had Dean been touched there. Alistair had made a mockery of his vow and his less-than-pure Taker mark but even he would not touch it. He said Dean had damaged himself enough and that he didn't need to do more work there.

Cas' fingers slid around the natural circle and Dean flinched as he waited for the pain to follow. Not only had he never been touched in that way near his mark but he had never been touched that way period. Most who saw the black on his chest would not bother unless it was followed by a punch or a kick. The fact that Cas' touch only brought a trail of goosebumps was unexpected.

Everyone's marks were sacred. That was the one tradition everyone kept and believed. To tarnish the mark as Dean had was seen as a severe, passionate act. Passion worked both ways. Touching another's mark with gentleness was seen as in intimate act reserved only for lovers. Cas was a hairline away from crossing over that boundary.

Dean ignored the heart thumping in his chest and let Cas' hand linger as he brought out the page, scribbled a note against his leg, and turned it towards him reading: _I'm not a Royal either._

Cas chuckled as he released his hand from Dean's chest and brought the note closer. The noise seemed strangled and Dean was suddenly worried when he found Cas' eyes had turned glassy and the page shook in his palm. Cas used the bars to lower himself and sat on the ground while clearing his throat and batting the dust from his eyes, Dean following him soon after.

Cas handed him back the page but to Dean's surprise, he did not scuttle back to the opposite wall. Cas stayed next to him and he stayed near the bars without curling back into his corner. It was another unexpected occurrence as Dean expected most would run after seeing him so exposed. Then again, he figured that's exactly how Cas felt.

"I'm sorry I did not explain sooner." Cas pointed towards his back and Dean's eyes followed, though all he could see now was a single arch that slipped over his left shoulder. It looked like nothing more than the bend of a dark shadow standing out against his flushed skin.

"I thought that if you knew…Most don't wish to be acquainted with me. They keep me secret so no one knows the royal family is tarnished. My mother swore that I was born this way, that she did not cheat on my father, but they did not listen. I am the reason for her banishment and they shun me because of it. They locked me up from birth so I would never be exposed. They blame me though it was not my fault. We cannot be blamed for the marks we are born with."

Cas' fists curled in his lap and it took him a moment before he could breathe again and continue, "If someone outside the royal family knew about me, someone who knew the truth…I fear your life is in danger. That's what Gabriel and Balthazar made me realize. I put you in danger. It is not fair of you to be put in this situation simply because I am selfish. If you want me to leave and never come back, I understand. In fact, I should go now."

Dean easily reached through the bar, pulled his body back down to the ground, and flicked him across the temple making him jump and hiss with the sudden sting. Dean shook his head and gestured wildly, making it clear that Cas needed to –_stop being such an idiot_- and that he should -_stay_.

Cas shook his head back but smiled in relief and brought them out the long silence that followed by pointing to the parchment, "Tell me about your family. I never got a chance to ask."

Cas started visiting again, every night after that. They talked about everything and anything and pretty soon Cas had to bring a piece of parchment with him every visit because their conversations would take up all the room on the page or Dean's doodles would get in the way.

Life, for all it was, wasn't all that bad. With Cas and Charlie, Dean could actually see himself surviving his situation.

Then came the day Charlie left. One of the royal cousins was getting married and they wanted to bring a servant with them. It was just Dean's luck that Charlie was their favorite. He got to say goodbye and the Fairy gave him a hug but that was it. Then he was alone during the days again, pretending he didn't know who Cas was and continuing with his daily chores in the kitchen.

Cas was very understanding of the whole thing and sat with Dean in silence that night, not really having anything to say. He was good with things like that. Whenever Dean started to miss someone so deeply, miss his old life, he would do the same -sit next to Dean as they leaned on the bars and looked out the window.

Time passed and though Dean missed Charlie, he did still have Cas.

"I brought you pie." Dean looked up with energetic puppy eyes as he caught sight and smell of the tiny treat. "Happy birthday." Dean raised his brows, not even sure what day it was. "I don't think it's your birthday either but I thought you should have one anyway." Dean chuckled and grabbed the pie. Any excuse for pie was fine with him.

Cas had a birthday too and Dean celebrated by giving him a drawing. It was stupid really but when all he had for material possessions were what Cas gave him, he figured it was better than nothing. Cas was grateful for it, calling it a masterpiece even though it was just a crappy drawing of a bird out his cell window.

"I love it," Cas smiled and gave Dean the most awkward hug he had ever received in his entire life. He had not really had that many hugs to begin with. Most of them had been from Charlie and while she was pretty awkward, this was some kind of weird man hug that involved Cas reaching through the bars at strange angles to slam him close. Dean made a noise of surprise when his head hit metal but snaked his hands around and hugged him right back, ignoring the inch of cell door that separated them and dug painfully into his front.

Dean did not really know how it happened but he found himself growing fonder of the out-casted Royal. He was not like the others, as Dean always knew. He did not think like them. Maybe it was the fact that he was part Taker, or so he had been told. Dean did not really see how the color of his mark made a difference. He was strange and dorky and very amusing to be around, not like how Takers or Royals were supposed to be. He didn't fit into any predestined category.

"Why was the bird afraid of swimming? It was because it was a chicken."

Dean just tilted his head and started giggling, then chuckling, then full on laughing. He couldn't catch his breath he started laughing so hard at how ridiculous that joke was or how proud Cas looked for thinking of it. He couldn't remember the last time he used his vocal chords that much or the last time he laughed. Really, really laughed.

Pretty soon Cas was joining in with such a small chuckle that it somehow only made Dean laugh harder. When he could breathe again, Cas just stared at him with a great goofy smile and said, "It's good to hear you laugh."

It was amazing to him that even though Cas was stuck inside and he was stuck in his cell or in the kitchen that they could still talk as much as they did. How much could they possibly have to talk about? They would also silently communicate when around each other in the inner castle. Dean would always serve him and slip him a little extra of his favorite foods and Cas would always nod in thanks while both pretended not to acknowledge other. Then Dean would wait in his assigned spot for Cas to glance over so he could make fun of the other Royals blabbering on and force Cas to hide his smile or laughter behind his drink or bites of food.

Things changed the night Dean asked Cas where he would go if he ever got out of the inner palace. Well, they didn't really change because life went on for the two of them as they always did, stuck behind their walls, but something changed in the way they were with each other.

"If I could go anywhere, where would I go?" Dean nodded. "Far away from here."

_Where?_

"I don't know much about the outside world except from what I read in books or from what you told me."

_No ideas? _

Cas dropped his gaze to the ground and Dean watched as the red traveled up his neck and over his face. He shuffled until he could reach out and smack his leg, throwing out his arms asking him with a point to his own face:_ What's with the blush?_

"It's nothing. It's silly of me. What about you? You would go home, correct?"

Dean discreetly shook his head and wrote out quick, _I'll tell you if you tell me._

That blush was straight back on Cas' face and he shook his head. "No- I don't want to. It's dumb. Just something stupid I daydream about sometimes." Dean waited and nodded him on. "I really would go anywhere. Every place sounds better than being stuck here. I might miss a few of my brothers and sisters but I – I wouldn't want to go without…I mean-" He caught Dean's eyes and abruptly stopped with a cough. Dean waited patiently, smiling a bit to let him know he could continue. Cas blush did not recede as he mumbled, "I would go anywhere as long as I was with you."

Dean smiled blindingly as Cas' worried eyes dropped from his and he went back to stuttering, "I mean- you're my only true friend. I cannot picture my life without you. You are there for me. You accept me. And even though I can't hear you speak I could listen to you for hours. About your family or Sam or Charlie or even how much you hate my family. You're just- You take care of me like no one else. No one's paid attention to me and I-"

Dean interrupted his rambling by quickly scribbling something out and throwing it at him through the bars.

_I like you too Cas_

Cas read it and smiled, chuckling just a bit, "You always have a way of simplifying what I want to say."

Dean just shrugged in his way as if to say- _It's just part of my charm._

"What about you? You said you would not go home. Why not?"

Dean took his time in writing out the answer as Cas watched him scrawl across the page.

_I want to see my family. But what if they're not_

_ It's been a long time. I want to see them/Sammy. But if I ever got out of here –not gonna happen- it wouldn't be because they let me out. I don't want to bring that back home. I'd go somewhere else to get them the money I promised in the first place. _

"Your family loves you Dean. They wouldn't cast you out."

_Too much – _

_Too many- _

_Too hard-_

"Alright," Cas stopped him from crossing out another sentence. "Let's not talk about your family then. What would be the first thing you would do?"

_Apple pie._

"I bring you apple pie almost every week. And you sneak some from the kitchens when you make it!"

_More. Apple. Pie. _

_You?_

"I've always wanted to ride a horse. I watch people from my window and it looks enjoyable but I've never done it."

_You can ride me._

Cas chuckled as he read the parchment and watched as Dean got on all fours and pretended to be a horse for his amusement, throwing in a whinny and suggestive wink his way for good measure. They didn't linger on the what-ifs for too long, though they were fun to think about once in a while.

The change that occurred after their dual confession lingered in the background. Neither really felt any phenomenal realization about their acceptance for the other or the depth of their feelings. They just kind of drifted closer, falling together in perfect harmony.

Dean lived every day waiting to see Cas, that would never change. It was the memory of his face blushing that had him waiting until he could see him so flustered again. Cas was shy about everything physical so it wasn't that hard for Dean to make it so. First, it was just leaning against Cas when he leaned on the bars, somehow making the younger boy flush. Then, it was absentmindedly running his fingers over Cas' arm when they were close or finding an excuse to touch his hair, something that made him sputter as well as blush. Then Dean would occasionally slip a hand on his leg or clasp theirs together with ridiculous excuses that made no sense but made his heart swell with pride when Cas would let him. Dean found he liked the touches and found himself flushing when a thought occurred to him, something that would push their boundaries so he could explore something he had always wondered about.

_Can I see your mark again?_

"Why?" Cas clammed up. He had always been self-conscious about it. The mark caused so much hate from his family after all. Usually Dean avoided the subject but they had grown much closer over time and he wanted to try.

Dean held up his hands in a tiny mock surrender, making it known that he did not mean any harm. Cas knew, of course, but it still took him a moment of squinting and awkwardly staring before he nodded his head and started to take off his shirt.

This time he sat down on the opposite side of the hall but Dean slammed the bars to get him to turn around and mimed for him to come closer. Cas shifted over until his back was almost to the door and jumped when he felt Dean's finger slide just above the first line on his shoulder. Dean waited with his finger there, knowing just how personal a request it was. He was astounded he was even asking, his stomach was all in knots and he bit in lip in anticipation. Ever since Cas showed him his mark, he wondered what it would be like to touch it. The move was so intimate and Cas was his friend who he didn't want to frighten with his intentions but it had to be Cas. It always had to be Cas.

Dean felt his stomach plunge when he peeked over his shoulder, more curious than offended, and nodded his head.

Dean dropped his finger down and skimmed it over the first line of black curving down the spine, mesmerized in the way the skin pulled with him, brightening the black to a gray before slipping back into the midnight tone. He felt Cas shiver as he drew a line back up one of the rounded lines curling just under the dip in his shoulder blade and flipped it back down again. Soon he raised his other hand and started to trail the matching lines on his other side, mapping out every angle in exact symmetry.

After running his tips over every raised line, he splayed his fingers out and slid his hand down, letting them rest completely on Cas' back. He felt the raised mark jump and dip under his palm, the directions his fingers led him twisting as Cas arched his back to the touch and his head pushed back against the bars. Dean heard him sigh with the feel of his hands running over the sensitive area, knowing that Cas had probably only been touched there –without permission- to figure out what was wrong with him. Dean saw nothing wrong as he continued to trace his one-of-a-kind mark up and down and up again.

Dean's hands had slowed in pace and he dipped his head against the bars, surprisingly out of breath, closing his eyes to the sound of Cas' ragged breathing. He only opened his eyes when he felt his hands spin around Cas' body as he turned to face Dean, his head leaning against the same spot on the bars. With Dean's hands still idly tracing the terrain of Cas' stomach, he felt a hand curling up his arm and he looked up to see Cas looking directly at his own mark. Cas' arm folded between the bars, his hand landed directly next to it on his shoulder, and his fingertips started to trace the outline as they had done before.

"Can I?" Cas whispered and it took a moment but Dean nodded, closing his eyes again as he left his hands on Cas and moved closer so the smaller boy could reach.

He could feel the shock and intensity fill him up as Cas' fingers slid over the border and lingered on the outside where the darkest parts of his mark lied. The pressure Cas put there did nothing to alleviate the darkness there, his black was too pure. Still, Cas did not pull away and instead trailed his finger to the middle, the center of the scar Dean had inflicted as a part of his vow. Cas' fingers bumped over the jagged, raised triangle pattern jutting out of the darkness in a massacred reddish color. It was part of the point, to stand out, as the vow was a serious matter. It was also not his fault all he had was a rock to make the lines. He expected Cas to pull away because of how marred he looked but instead he continued to draw with his fingers, trailing them around and around.

When Cas stopped, Dean expected him to pull away but the fingers danced up instead. Up his peck, up his collarbone, up his neck, until Cas somehow managed to grab the back of his head, running his hands through his short hair. Dean opened his eyes to find Cas still close, their foreheads just barely brushing. It was when their close eyes focused past the blur and on each other that he felt the pull that bent his head and he closed his eyes again, pressing forward as much as he could, meeting Cas half way as their lips touched for the first time.

Dean shuffled forward as Cas did the same, pressing their bodies together against the cold metal keeping them apart. Dean's hands shifted from Cas' stomach, over to his back, pulling him as close as he possibly could. Cas shifted his hands too, the other hitting the bar as he tried to push it through, landing on Dean's shoulder to help pull them together. It was so frustrating to have those inches apart but between the cracks they could feel their stomachs press together, their chests brushing, and their mouths moving.

It was infuriatingly difficult to get a pace set for their lips as every push resulted in someone tasting a bit of iron. They kept at it, pouting out as far as they could go, pulling, popping, and biting. By the time they both needed to pause for a breath, resting their foreheads together to catch the lost air, they each had a few good bruises on their bodies and aches in their limbs and knees.

"Dean-" Cas whispered, breathing out the name in a pant. "I-" Dean cut him off with another pull as they met again, their lips connecting in the confined space until they were both too exhausted to sit upright.

They parted with many goodnights, each sworn to be the last, each cut off by one or the other –or both- grabbing at the other again. Unfortunately, it had to end as Cas could not be found there in the morning without dire consequences. With regret, they untangled their limbs from the door of the cell and separated until the next night when they could be together again.


	5. Chapter 5

Cas walked the long way back to his room with a smile plastered on his face. No matter how much he tried to concentrate on sneaking along the path and in between walls without being noticed, he could not stop himself from thinking about what had just happened. It was all so bewildering but also perfectly natural.

He barely registered his surroundings in his ecstatic state and so he found it a great surprise when he tried to tuck into bed and found two bodies lying under his covers.

"Cassie?" Balthazar woke up first and hit Gabriel's arm, trying to wake him.

"Go away," Gabriel muttered into Cas' pillow. "Too early."

"Cassie's here."

"Cassie?" Gabriel stretched, flipped his pillow into Balthazar's face, and rolled back to face him. "Cassie!"

"What are you two doing in my bed?"

"Well we were bored and were going to steal you away for a night of fun-" Balthazar smirked and winked at Gabriel, "-but it seems you've had your own."

"Oh my. Did Cassie get laid?"

"Finally."

"What?" Cas gulped down his smile and shook his head, flustered and trying to rid himself of the blush that crept up from his neck, as he moved to the other side of his small room for an excuse he had not yet made up. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't have to be shy with us," Balthazar was suddenly at his side, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah," Gabriel soon joined, tousling his messy hair. "It was going to happen at some point."

"For your information I did not…get laid." Cas stumbled over their phrasing and slumped into the closest chair, too tired to fight past them to get to his bed and, besides, he honestly didn't know how he would sleep. Not with those two keeping him up and not with the constant memory of Dean's mouth moving against his repeating in his mind. He could still feel the scratch of his stubble marking his lower lip.

"Look, he's got the face," Gabriel poked him in the cheek and laughed when Cas tried to bat him away, jumping back and falling into the chair opposite.

"You're a blushing virgin," Balthazar tagged on, slumping onto the arm of Cas' chair. "Oh well, I guess we can't say that anymore."

"I didn't- we didn't-"

"Oh, so there was a we?!" Gabriel was all too happy to cut him off with a victorious chuckle.

"And would the other half of this we involve a certain silent prisoner?" Balthazar prodded him in the chest but he did not look up.

"Taken by a Taker? How rebellious of you."

"Our dear Cassie is growing up."

"C'mon tell us," Gabe kicked his ankle to spark him into sharing. "Spare no detail. You made the first move didn't you?"

"Woulda loved to see Deany boy's mime for that."

"I would like to go to bed now," Cas drawled after shoving Balthazar's vulgar hand gesture away.

"Aw, he wear you out?" Balthazar chuckled and Gabriel joined him when Cas glared and shoved his cousin to the ground.

"You two are wearing me out."

"Alright fine," Gabriel threw up his hands in surrender and started to walk towards the door. "But you better hide those smiles tomorrow or Michael's gonna come asking."

"And I doubt he'll care for the pillow talk," Balthazar added as he leapt from the floor to follow.

"I appreciate your concern but I will be alright," Cas waved them away.

"Well you're obviously not going to listen to us about staying away from him," Balthazar shrugged.

"And since you're not, just be careful," Gabriel added.

"No need to get yourself hurt over someone like him."

"What do you mean someone like him?" Cas snapped, his body tensing as he prepared for the beating that came from those that were prejudice against Takers.

"Oh don't give me that," Balthazar snapped back. "You know I didn't mean that. I mean someone who will only get you into trouble."

"I will be able to handle any trouble that comes my way."

"We're just trying to help you Cassie," Gabriel cut in before Balthazar could argue back.

Cas dropped his head and breathed deep, relinquishing the fight they did not earn. Anyone who spoke ill of Dean automatically enraged him. Even if it was just his family trying to look out for him as they always had. "I know."

"Come on," Gabriel slapped Balthazar and opened the door to their exit. "I'm starving."

"You're always hungry."

"You're always cranky."

The two bickered down the hall as Cas climbed into bed and thought about what they said. Of course, he could not think on it for long as any thought of Dean led to the memories of touches and kisses and he was lost to those until they circled into the reality in his dreams.

The next day, Cas' stomach would do flips and a small smile would curl across his face any time he caught site of Dean –or even something that reminded him of Dean, which were a lot of things. As soon as Dean turned to look at him he would instantly drop his gaze but the smile would still be there. He waited to see Dean face to face when they were securely hidden at his cell.

"I'm sorry, about today. For ignoring you. I just couldn't look at you without-" Cas gestured to his entire face and smiled as Dean nodded, completely understanding.

Dean was even smiling himself and Cas swore he was even tinging a shade of red, just a bit. Of course, Dean would just say it was the fire in the hall glowing and not his face.

Cas loved that smile on him. It took forever for Dean to feel comfortable smiling in front of Cas, hiding it or biting his lip whenever he was tempted. The only ones he allowed were due to sarcasm or a warped sense of intimidation. It worked too. Cas was intimated by Dean even when separated by the iron wall between them. Dean was just so big and …well…a tiny bit scary. Especially since he did not speak. His mannerisms, his sneers and his smirks, his glares and his winks, it all made it clear he was powerful, in charge, and could probably break Cas with his pinky finger if it weren't for the paper thin door keeping them separated.

Cas was absolutely terrified the first few times they met, literally quaking in his boots as he talked to the mighty beast in the cage. Why he kept returning when it was clear he was unwanted, he wasn't even truly sure. He just felt drawn to him, to this mystery, and loved to watch the way he slowly unraveled. Maybe it started because he found someone to talk to, to unload on, someone that could not vocally thrash him or physically –hopefully, with the bars in tact- beat him down. But it turned into something so much more.

Cas had changed from knowing him. He had turned from a shy, pained, scared boy to one with opinions, desires, and a voice. It was funny in that way. It took Dean -the man with no voice- to give him one.

It was so admirable of him to have taken that vow and Cas took it to heart that someone finally stood up to his family. Maybe he couldn't do it in the same way, he could not always vocalize his newfound confidence due to the harassment he would face, but he took small steps that he never would have before. Even sneaking out of the inner palace every night was something he never would have considered before meeting Dean.

It was clear Dean did not take compliments well but Cas tried to tell him as often as possible about what a wonderful being he was. Taker -mark or not- it did not matter because he was genuinely pure hearted and a good man.

Perhaps having those thoughts as early as their first conversation should have tipped Cas off to his feelings for Dean. He always knew he felt a strong bond with the prisoner and Gabriel and Balthazar would joke but it wasn't clear to him until the day he showed Dean his mark.

He tried so desperately to stay away, to hide at night in his room staring out the window and wondering if Dean was staring at the same sky. Dean would only get hurt by seeing him, a part of him knew that. Honestly, he believed it was for the better. Dean had only started to warm up to him and it was best to get it over with quickly. Cas tried not to worry about him, to live his life as he always had before knowing him, but how could he?

After knowing what making a friend felt like he found it very hard to forget him. It was difficult not to check out every window every day in the hopes of seeing him. The worst days were when he had the chance, just a glimpse, as Dean did chores for Michael through the courtyard. He wanted to run down and ask him how he was, if his brother was treating him fairly, and tell him all about the book he read –a book where every character somehow reminded him of Dean and every story turned into an adventure about him.

Cas actually thought he had started to hallucinate when he first saw Dean serving in the inner kitchen. It made it that much harder not to say anything, to make even the smallest of connections. A wink. A nod. A smile. So how could he resist Dean's invitation?

He folded and unfolded the note, clearly not in Dean's handwriting, over and over again as he paced in his room. Did Dean really want him to go? Was it just a trick? Why did Dean give him the note if he didn't write it? Who did write it? Later he would learn it was Charlie and he would grow to appreciate her more than he ever expected.

Cas' will crumpled quicker than the parchment he stuffed into his pocket. Any excuse. He was always going to go. He never expected what happened to actually happen. He never planned on showing his mark to Dean. He never showed it to anyone. They just wanted to poke and prod and judge but Dean was different. He accepted him like no one had ever done before. Dean was the first.

That was the night Cas realized he cared for Dean more than he ever had anyone else in his life. He loved his family, well –the few members that treated him well-, and the occasional servant he was allowed to speak with but other than that, all he had were the fantasies in his head or the characters in his books. He never expected an actual person to live up to those daydreams and he really didn't expect someone to excel them.

His daydreaming got him in trouble more than once. His family told him it was a waste of time and it annoyed those that tried to talk with him. Little did they know what his daydreams had turned into. He had long since thought about a place to escape to but instead of far away villages or distant oceans where he could sail away, all he wanted was Dean by his side. Most fantasizes were now about breaking him out of jail and taking him far away.

When Dean asked him the question about where he would go it truly derailed him. He thought Dean could see right through him but, like always, Dean knew the exact right thing to say. And he said he liked him. It did things to Cas' chest that he did not understand. On top of the respect he had, on top of the appreciation he felt for Dean's acceptance, there was a new twinge that caused his heart to beat twice as fast and his face to break out in a smile at the mere thought of him.

Cas tried to keep it a secret but it was so hard with Dean now so open to him. His fragment of a confession brought on a level of trust he was sure the prisoner did not share with anyone else. He felt honored and did not wish to break it by telling him it was more.

When Dean asked to see his mark again, he allowed a bit of skepticism to wiggle its way through but Dean proved himself yet again, and more. The feeling of those hands spanning over his back and sliding down his spine sent tingles everywhere. His Royal mark tinged with the black of a Taker, the connection to his soul, was caressed for the very first time by Dean Winchester. There was no one he would rather it be.

As he sat there, his muscles turned to jelly under Dean's spreading fingers, he tried to work up the courage to turn and face him –to show him he held the same respect for his mark as Dean was showing him. Cas was surprised to say the feeling of Dean's hands spinning under his body, lingering on his waist, was just as exciting as the pet on his back.

Cas was nervous as he pressed his fingers forward and asked for Dean's permission, relief flooding him when he obtained it. Dean's mark was fascinating. Cas had always had an eye for it, trying to memorize it every time he saw it down to the very last scratch made by the mark of his vow, imaging what it felt like under his fingertips –such a privileged fantasy. He wasn't prepared for the acceptance and the wonder he felt at getting to live out his daydream and it was remarkable.

Dean, dark and wounded, was absolutely beautiful.

He was truly not prepared for what the touches led to. Usually he strayed from imagining Dean pulling him close, holding him, touching him through the bars. He did not think Dean would accept that. To have it happen, to feel that man embracing him and kissing him as he had done with no other, elated him. He would be flying off the ground if it were possible.

Fresh memories washed over him as he knelt in front of the smiling Dean and leaned on the bars, slipping his hand tentatively through and brushing against his skin again. Every touch brought a fresh grin to his face. Dean's smile as he returned the gestures made him feel like his face would break and his chest would explode from the joy.

After Cas apologized for ignoring him, they talked as they always had -only closer, physically and emotionally. By the end of the night, Dean had run out of parchment again and handed his used one over so Cas could throw it away –at least throwing it away is what Cas implied happened to the used pages. Only, Dean accidentally handed him the wrong one.

"What's this?" Cas slowly turned the parchment over to show Dean the drawing he made earlier. Dean was usually very shy over his drawings and it was clear this was one Cas was not meant to see.

It was a drawing of him, rather, the back of him. Dean had tried to draw his mark by memory, doing a rather fine job of it he thought. Dean shaped it against the contours of his sketched back and added to it, making it look more like feathers than harsh lines. Those feathers made it look like Cas had wings -something Dean had much practice drawing with the plentiful amount of birds at his window. The finished product made Cas look like an angel with dark wings curled up against his back. At the bottom, tucked away in the corner, visible against the scribbles of former conversations, Dean had wrote the words _Dark Angel_.

Dean groaned and tried to take the parchment back but Cas had it firm in his grip and raised it away from the bars and out of his reach, staring at it with a smile. "I like it." Dean rolled his eyes and glared but Cas just chuckled, tucked the picture back into his pocket and met Dean for a quick kiss that he reluctantly returned. Of course, after a second he was not quite so reluctant and kissed him rather eagerly, forgetting the drawing completely.

That night Cas tucked the drawing in his lock box with the others, hiding it under his bed as he smiled like a madman.

They became as close as two people could be, separated by their marks, their society, their prisons and the limited amount of verbal communication. Each night they would touch and talk, sometimes even argue, make up and say goodnight with a kiss. Cas would always say, "Until tomorrow", and Dean would write out '_Goodnight, Angel'. _The nickname stuck after that drawing and it always gave Cas a thrill to read it. He was certain no one had called him that before and that Dean had never given anyone that name.

Only at night could the two could truly be together. The days were filled with careful glances and heads kept down –both pretending not to know the other. It was impossible to be together when they were always watched. Michael was one of the more observant.

It was well established and common knowledge that Cas had problems with his family and they liked to pick on him because he was an outcast. The worst were Lucifer and Raphael. Their teasing went beyond hurtful slurs and into physical altercations.

Dean happened to be passing during one of these bully sessions. Cas had been carrying a few new books to his room when the two ganged up on him and decided to send all his new novels to the ground. They tormented him with the usual verbal slurs, all associated with being a Taker, and Raphael was just about to kick Cas while he was bending for a book when Dean came stomping in between them and glared at the two older siblings.

"And what is this?" Lucifer clearly enjoyed the show as Dean threw out an arm and pushed Cas behind him before he could get punted.

"A Taker defending a Taker," Raphael goaded. "How fitting."

"Do you got something to say to me boy?" Lucifer asked, shoving his finger into Dean's face. Dean refused to look away, refused to budge, even after Cas tried to tug at his shirt and get him to stand down.

"Leave him alone," Cas pleaded, trying to step away but Dean would not let him move.

"No. I think he should apologize," Raphael cooed. "Go on. Apologize."

They of course knew Dean would not talk and that was when the fight began. Raphael shoved Dean forward and Dean's instinct was to shove him back and then Lucifer joined in and soon the three were swapping punches and throwing kicks. Cas was never a fighter and begged them to stop from the outside but it did nothing. He tried to pull Dean away but only got hit in the process, ending up with a bloody lip.

Michael quickly appeared and broke them all apart. Dean was sent back to the kitchen as Lucifer and Raphael left but Michael seemed to eye Cas suspiciously. Nothing more was said of the fight between the royal family members.

Cas felt terrible after what happened but Dean would not accept his apologies. All Dean wanted to do was to check Cas' lip, preferably with his mouth. Cas pushed him away but Dean would not give up.

As Dean held a hand over his bruised side and scribbled on the page, he gripped Cas tightly by his wrist to make sure he would not leave. _It was your brothers fault. Not yours._

It took more apologizing and a few tears on Cas' side but eventually Cas gave up trying to persuade Dean to stop getting involved. Dean said he cared too much for Cas safety and could not stand to see him get hurt. He always wanted to be there for him. To protect him. Cas admitted the same. There was no way either could keep away now.

It was this knowledge and Cas' daydreaming that got them into serious trouble.

Dean is always on his mind and tonight is no different. Cas is eating with his family and Dean is standing in the corner and they are both sharing silent conversations with their eyes and smiles as they usually do. It is all innocent fun but it is the last straw for Michael.


	6. Chapter 6

It is all Dean's fault. He is the one smiling at Cas when they get caught.

"Winchester." Michael slams his hands on the table and jumps up. Everyone in the room quiets behind the clattering of silverware as he stomps over to the prisoner. "What were you just doing?" The question was not really meant to be answered because he knew Dean would not talk. "Why were you just staring? What business do you have with my little brother?" Dean kept his face as stoic as possible, looking out at nothing as everyone stared at him.

"I don't think he knows mime bro." Gabriel chimes in and shoots a small look in Cas' direction but Cas isn't noticing. He is staring at Dean and Dean can feel his eyes but he refuses to look at him back. He just keeps staring forward.

"Anyone have paper?" Balthazar asks, sitting back in chair and waiting for the chaos.

"He could draw in the peas!" Gabriel laughed but no one found him that funny.

"He probably can't read, let alone write." Michael scoffs, keeping his eyes on Dean, waiting for him to crack and only getting mad when he refuses. "I'll teach you to respect your proper place, Taker. Take him to Alastair." Michael snaps, Dean is grabbed, and the next thing he knows he is being led to a very familiar basement with a very familiar table they had reserved just for him.

The pain was not something he missed.

It takes Alastair three days to be happy with the work he does. It is three days without Cas. Three days where he can't get any answers. All he has is Alistair whispering lies into his ear. He doesn't know if Cas got into trouble or if Michael was completely ignorant to their relationship. He took it as a good sign that Cas wasn't stuck down in the basement with him.

Three days later, Dean is dumped back in his cell. Left to heal so he can be ready for work, bright and early.

When they come for him in the morning he cannot move and they leave him to rot with promises of more pain soon to follow. They will not tell him anything. Cas has not visited and he can only think the worst as he stares at the stone on his ceiling and tries to find the answer. Five years of trying to find a way to escape and he never wanted to get out more than he did now. He needs to know Cas is alright.

That night his worrying ceases when Cas finds him. Dean doesn't even notice at first, he is half asleep at the time, lulling in and out of consciousness as he had all day.

"Dean! Gabriel told me you were-" Dean quickly rolls over at the sound but instantly regrets it when he sees the look of horror on Cas' face. As much as he needs to know Cas is alright, he does not want him to see him like this. He doesn't want to look so beat or broken but Alastair wouldn't let him leave until he did. The perfect canvas, he said.

"Oh Dean." Cas fell before him and reached a hand between the bars, stroking gently over the bruises and cuts he could reach. "It's so much worse than I imagined."

Dean ignored him and instead mimed his way into asking: _Are you okay?_

"Am I okay? Of course. Well, no. Not really. Michael went through my room. He found the the pages I kept. Drawings and our conversations. He pieced it together. He wants to send me away. From here, from you. He's planning to marry me away to another Royal family, to make me carry on the royal name. Somewhere where I could cause less trouble than I already do. Locked away in an even more remote location. He thinks it is for the best. He already spoke with our father. They sent guards to watch me but Gabriel helped me get here."

Dean looks up with all the pain he had been trying to lock away breaking through to the surface. Cas was leaving him? Alone?

Cas blinked through the tears that had fallen and gripped Dean a little tighter, shaking his head as if he could read his mind. He probably could with how well they had come to know each other. "We're leaving. Tonight."

Dean's eyes shoot up in question, one of the few parts of him that does not hurt to move, as Cas pulls a small key from his pocket. With a quick look around to see if anyone followed, Cas clangs the key into the lock and slides the door open.

Cas dives to his side and helps him up, dropping the key on the ground to grab him better under the shoulders as he lifts him to his feet. "Come on."

Dean groans with the pain but stops them before they can take their first step to silently ask; _Now? Where? How?_

He isn't sure if Cas gets all that but he seems to understand a bit and pauses to answer as he swipes his hand over Dean's face and pets away the pain Alastair's handiwork left behind. "I was too scared to try stealing the key before. It's my father's and he keeps it in his room. But they can't take you away from me. I can't let them do this to you. I can't let them hurt you." Cas checks the hall again and starts to shift their weight. "They'll be after us soon. Not even Gabriel knows what I'm doing. No one does. But they'll figure it out. They'll try and hunt us down. With our marks it won't be hard so we'll have to find a place. A place where we can be alone, where no one with bother us. Anywhere you want. We'll pick a direction and walk until we can't anymore. We'll never look back. We'll just go. That is, if you want. Do you want to? Come with me?"

Dean gapes with his bruised jaw hanging open before slamming against him, gripping him tight and ignoring all the muscles and wounds in his body that are begging him to stop. It was just then that he realizes that he is touching Cas. Full body, touching Cas for the first time with no bars keeping them apart. It sends a thrill through him that shoots past the ache in his body. He hugs him close and tight and moves his lips onto his in a way he never could before.

Cas is just as responsive, moves carefully around the open wounds on his back and holds him in a gentle embrace. They part quick, for they knew what trouble is lurking, and both smile when Cas says, "I supposed that's a yes. I know a way out of the city. Gabriel and Balthazar have taken it a few times. They shouldn't see us there."

Cas leads the way out of the castle, supporting Dean as he goes. Dean tries to take some pressure off him, sure he's crushing him with every step, but his wounds won't allow him much leeway. They push and limp and pull until they break free from the never ending line of cells. At the edge, Cas leaves Dean leaning against a wall and grabs a spare blanket to throw over his body so they can walk through the courtyard.

Dean is on high alert as he follows Cas, bending and bouncing from the back of building to building until Cas found the side-door he spoke of. Dean smirks at the sight. It was where he was caught sneaking in. It was where they captured him.

Just as they are about to leave, the door already propped open, Michael jumps into their peripheral vision.

"Castiel!"

Dean moves in front of Cas as Michael comes closer, letting the blanket hiding him fall to the ground.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Leave us, Michael," Cas tries to pull away but Dean knows the fight is not over.

"I cannot let you go Castiel. I cannot let the prisoner leave either. He knows too much. I'm sorry. Gaurds!" As Michael screams, Dean leaps and clocks him in the jaw. The Royal turns to attack but Dean is quicker. He fights past the pain he feels and slams his foot into his opponents' chest, throwing him into the alley behind.

"Dean! They're coming! Let's go!" Cas screams, takes his hand before he can attack again, and pulls him through the door just as the guards Michael called come into view.

"Find them!" Michael yells from the ground but they are already on the other side of the wall.

They run as fast as Dean's beaten legs can carry him until they are outside of the castle, far down the hill it rested on, and safely inside the brush of the nearest forest, ducking under branches and leaping over rocks. Though both are blind to direction, Cas leads the way as he holds Dean's hand tightly, only splitting when the path gets too narrow. Dean is just as eager to keep contact as they look over their shoulders and search for threats.

They continue to run and run, defying the exhaustion they feel, until the sun starts to peek out over the horizon. Once the orange glow hits their skin, they finally stop. Sinking to the ground they smile and end up curling into each other for a long desired victory kiss as they fall back into the grass.

"Dean," Cas leans up on his elbow and smiles down at the freed prisoner. "Thank you. For everything. For coming with me. I can't stand the thought of what they've done to you and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't suggest this sooner and I'm sorry you have waited so long. If I could go back and figure this out sooner, I would. But you give me courage I didn't know I had. There are many things I feel with you and I-"

Dean dips his head up and stops the ramblings of his fretting compaion with a kiss.

He is free.

Finally free.

And it was all due to Cas. His wonderful, _not-a-Royal_, one of a kind, pulls back, smiles, breaths in deep and hums until he feels the vibrations in his throat warm him up enough to croak, "I love you too, Angel."

Cas' eyes blow out at the sound of Dean's voice hitting his ears. His breathing hitches and his mouth drops in shock before joy overflows and he swoops down for a kiss that would only add to the bruises on Dean's face. "I love you too."

* * *

><p>"Sammy?" Dean's underused voice cracks from the door of his old house as he looks up to see his 'little' brother taking up the frame.<p>

"Dean?" Sammy the giant asks as shock washes over him. Once the astonishment settles, he reaches out and wraps Dean up faster than his brother could reach out himself.

Dean agreed to go home after Cas suggested a quick visit. Cas had stolen some of those jewels Dean had fantasied about taking and prompted Dean to bring it to his family as a way to make up for the time lost in his cell. Dean made fun of him for being influenced by a Taker but Cas only blushed. It seemed Dean found a new way to make him flustered –just by talking.

Dean is invited into the house and as he sits and listens he learns that Sammy is alright. He has been taken care of by Ellen, Bobby, and Jo and even has himself a girl. The kid actually grew up to be one hell of a good guy.

Dean explains everything, including Cas. The only thing he leaves out is where he is currently hiding from the royal family in case someone came asking Sammy questions.

Sammy is a bit more shocked that his brother is alive than anything else but agrees to stay where he is and wait the year it would take to be of-age until he considers moving to be with them, wherever they decide to end up. In the meantime, he will accept Dean's money, whatever extra he can scrap up, and wait for his next visit.

Cas waits for Dean on the edge of town and holds out his hand when he is close. Dean automatically takes it as they start to walk the trail and smiles when Cas start to rub the back of his hand with his thumb to help soothe the nerves that lingered. "How was he?" Dean nodded, still not used to talking quite yet. "Where do you want to go?"

Dean squeezed the hand in his and smiled, "Anywhere."

* * *

><p><strong>THE END<strong>

Anywhere by Evanescence: (mersuperwholockabuff)(.tumblr)(.com)(/private/99375123132/tumblr_nd21i0cMLX1rnfrzr)

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> The goal was to keep it short and to try something new (fantasy and limited dialogue). It was only a half a thought so I don't blame anyone who didn't want to read it. Personally, I wouldn't recommend this one. I appreciate those who enjoyed it though! ...suckers ;) And feedback is very much appreciated.

Go listen to the song. Please. I beg of you. It will all make sense. Maybe. Maybe not. But you'll be like –oh, you tried too hard.- And I will be like –yeah-. But it's totally what they walk into the distance to. Obviously.


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